


The Usual End To A Night

by atheldamn



Series: Prompts & Requests [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Flirting, Hospitals, M/M, and R has a nosebleed, but none of those are serious they're literally just in the waiting room, jehan's gender identity is as fluid as how i write him dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheldamn/pseuds/atheldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a prompt from tumblr, also <a href="http://switchferre.tumblr.com/post/112237546309/7-r-jehan-i-meant-to-burst-into-your-inbox">here</a>.</p><p>Hospital waiting rooms on a Saturday night have never been so enthralling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Usual End To A Night

Grantaire groaned, lifting the tissue from his nose to check whether it was still bleeding. It was - they said it was probably broken, again - and he had no more clean tissues. He groaned again, irritated, and was halfway to standing before there was a hand in front of him, waving a handful of tissues at him.

"Here," said the owner of the hand. Grantaire blinked, taking the tissues, and the first thing that came into focus was a badge pinned to his chest, white with the words ‘he/him/his’ in bold black letters. There were others, but they were far too colourful for him to focus on.

The rest of him was equally colourful, all flowers and lace and tight trousers. He looked like he’d fallen through first an old woman’s wardrobe, then a massively expensive ‘hipster’ shop. Somehow, it worked. Grantaire was very confused.

"Thanks…" he mumbled, taking the tissues and tipping his head back, pinching his nose. The flow had lessened somewhat, but it was definitely still bleeding.

"You should lean forwards," said the man, taking the seat opposite him. "Stops you choking on the blood," he continued helpfully when Grantaire frowned at him.

"Right…" Dubiously, he leant forward, coughing weakly and clutching at his side. He hadn’t noticed a blow to the ribs, but it definitely felt like some were at least bruised. Great. "What are you here for?" he bluntly asked. "You don’t look injured."

"Pushed over in a scuffle. Broke my collarbone, possibly fractured my arm. Just waiting for a cubicle."

"You broke your- Shouldn’t you be in more pain?" Grantaire asked, tilting his head to the side so he could look at the man.

"Yeah, it hurts. Had quite a lot of vodka, though." Grantaire laughed softly, and the man smiled back, dipping his head so Grantaire’s view of his face was obstructed. "I’m Jehan."

"Jean?"

"Jehan."

"Jehan. Right. R. Pleasure. Well, I’d rather be anywhere, else, but-"

"How’d you do that?" Jehan interrupted, gesturing at his nose.

"Some guy thought I was hitting on some girl he was after," Grantaire shrugged.

"And?" Jehan prompted.

"He took a dislike. Douchebag, she wasn’t even interested in him. That’s why I was talking to her, I was checking she was alright." Grantaire hadn’t quite realised how badly that could backfire.

"Checking on her?" Jehan asked, a disbelieving eyebrow raised.

"I’m gay, I was definitely just checking on her," he replied, smirking. It wasn’t often he felt so comfortable simply coming out with that fact, but if Jehan was boldly stating gender pronouns on his chest, he felt okay in supposing he wouldn’t be homophobic.

"You didn’t deserve a bloody nose," Jehan said, smiling softly, and he had a very pretty smile - full lips that curved upwards at the corners and pushed lines into his cheeks. Grantaire felt himself blush and hoped the bruising would hide it.

"Thanks," he mumbled uselessly. He looked down at his shoes for a long moment, glaring at the blood that had probably stained the leather by now, and a silence fell between the two. He didn’t like silence. "How’d you break your arm?"

"A friend of mine, took a dislike to the way some guys were looking at me. So he confronted them. It rather… escalated," he said nonchalantly.

"Happen to you often?"

"A night out isn’t complete with punching a queer-phobe."

"I like you, Jehan," Grantaire said, dabbing at his nose and sitting up, wiping his hands on his already ruined jeans. Jehan huffed a shy laugh and tucked his ear behind his ear with what must be his uninjured arm.

"I like you too. You seem like a good man."

Grantaire laughed. “As long as I seem like one, that’s good enough for me.”

"Jean Prouvaire?!" a nurse called, and Jehan stood, waving.

"Yup, that’s me!"

"I’ll look you up on facebook," Grantaire said quickly, before he could walk away. Jehan just grinned.

"Don’t have facebook," he sang, stepping around another sleeping drunk on his way to the nurse.

"Then can I get your number?!" Grantaire called after him, shelving his pride in an effort to get a date with the enchantingly cute tissue-bearer.

"Don’t have a phone!" 

"Throw me a fucking bone!"

"I’ll find you, R," Jehan threw over his shoulder, shooting him a dazzling smile, one which grabbed Grantaire’s heart, wrapping tightly and warmly around it and settling comfortably.

"Bastard," Grantaire muttered under his breath, slouching down in his seat, waiting for his name to be called.

~

The curtain twitched moments after the nurse left, and Grantaire shoved his phone guiltily beneath the covers.

"Found you," said Jehan, sticking his head in the gap and smiling, his arm now in a sling.

"Yeah, you did," Grantaire replied quietly, smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://switchferre.tumblr.com)


End file.
